


The Way to a Tater's Heart

by WrathoftheStag (Mwuahna)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Character Study, Food and Love, Friendship, Home, M/M, Tater loves to Eat, introspective, ranskov, soft tater, tater's childhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-24 15:15:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15633303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mwuahna/pseuds/WrathoftheStag
Summary: Although Tater enjoyed food immensely, always had, it really wasn’t about the food.  For Tater it was about the love.A small Tater character study, featuring a Soft!Tater and some Ranskov.





	The Way to a Tater's Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Devereauxs_Disease](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devereauxs_Disease/gifts).



> For DD who inspired this fic when she suggested that Tater would be all over a fluffernutter and carnie food. <333 By the by, I 100% agree with that assessment.

“I have to go home! My babulya is making pirozhki tonight!” Alyosha said to his teammate Misha as he exited the rink without looking back. He enjoyed his time on the ice with friends, but nothing got in the way of mealtime.

Alyosha ran through the busy streets, his hockey bag bouncing up and down his back. He waved at the cat sitting on the ledge, he jumped over a crack on the sidewalk. His long legs took him as fast as they could, and with all the enthusiasm a 12-year-old boy had.

“Babulya, ya doma!” Alyosha said as he ran through their apartment, dropping equipment behind him.

“Alexei, _please_! Pick up your hockey gear and put it in the closet. You're just like your papa,” mama said with a long-suffering sigh. 

Alyosha ran into the kitchen where his babulya stood waiting for him with a pirozhki in hand. She winked as he took it, and ran back to the hallway to put his things away.

Mama looked at him with a quirked eyebrow and he frowned. Even though Alyosha was already taller than her, mama was tiny yet intimidating.

“Really? You couldn’t wait to put your things away before you started eating?”

He closed the closet door and smiled. 

“I love babulya’s cooking so much, I couldn’t wait.” He slinked over to his mother dramatically, “And! I! Was! Starving!” 

Tatiana Mashkov rolled her eyes and kissed her only son’s cheek. “You spoiled little prince.”

Alyosha leaned in and hugged his mama tightly. She squeaked. “Oh, you! Go, now, to the kitchen and finish your treat.”

“Yes, mama.” 

Alyosha sat happily in the kitchen as his babulya started another batch--the scent of potatoes, mushrooms, onions filled the air. 

Babulya began to sing an old song as she worked, “Oh, little apple, but where are you rolling to? You will get in my mouth, and will never come out!”

Alyosha smiled surrounded by the sounds of his grandmother’s kitchen which filled him with pirozhki and love. 

He took another bite…

**+++**

Alexei Mashkov loved to eat. That was not news. One only had to look at him, the enormity of him and know it took a lot to fuel him up. For many of the guys he had encountered, back at home and there in the states, food was just a source of energy. Something to shovel in so you could keep going; skate longer, check harder.

When he first arrived in Minneapolis, the family he stayed with had sons his age. They treated him well enough, were friendly and outgoing but still, Alexei felt alone. Grappling with the language, the foreignness of it all, his only comfort could be found in food. 

He enjoyed the cheeseburgers, the fries, the apple pies… but he longed for the warmth that food made with love would offer. His babulya told him time and time again how much she loved her little Alyosha through her cooking. 

When his host mother took him to a local Russian deli and bought him a cup of borscht---while he was never a fan of borscht--he felt so happy, Alexei could have sworn he heard his babulya sing to him.

**+++**

“Varenikis,” B said happily, "with blueberry. Does that sound good?”

Tater looked around Jack’s kitchen at all the ingredients B had spread out on the counter. 

“Sound amazing, B! And you learned how to make them?” Tater asked as he was led to the sink to wash his hands.

“Well, I looked it up online. I just figured _home_ is where you eat. Food is where your memories are. And if I were thousands of miles away from home, missin’ my family, I’d want a little something to remind me of them.”

The two worked happily while music played in the background. 

B showed Tater how to roll out the dough. 

"Here, use this glass to cut out circles.”

Tater took the glass and smiled as B took out a jar from the counter.

“I also made you some blueberry jam to take home. I know how much you like blueberries.”

Tater smiled broadly, thinking how lucky he was. His family was, indeed, thousands of miles away--but here, with the Falconers, with Jack, and now with B, he had found a new family.

The smell of blueberries wafted through the air as B’s singing filled Jack’s kitchen…

**+++**

Babulya died one winter night. When he saw mama was calling at three in the morning, he knew. Babulya was 92 and still walked to the neighborhood bakery every day. Still cooked for everyone in the house. Still sang while she worked.

“Are you okay, Alyosha?” Mama asked.

“Yes… no. I wish I were home.”

“I know, my little prince. Check your email, Alyosha.”

Later at his desk, Tater logged onto his email and saw that mama had scanned and sent him babulya’s handwritten recipe for pirozhki. 

He made his flight reservations, then made a batch of pirozhki, which he ate quietly as he wept.

**+++**

“How much exactly are you planning on eating?” Jack asked with concern as the four wandered through the Madison County Fairgrounds. 

“Don’t you dare food shame this boy, Jack Zimmermann,” B said and patted Tater’s arm.

“Yeah, Jack,” Justin said with a laugh. He gave Tater an enormous handful of tickets. “Here you go. These will get you plenty of food.” 

The four descended upon the Bittle household two nights ago, upon Mama B’s insistence that they stay at the house. 

Tater had never been to an American fair before, and he had to admit what he was most looking forward to was the food. Yes, he loved spending time with B and Jack but he wanted to try everything the fair had to offer--especially with Justin.

“Well, just don’t go eating a Frito Pie, or whatever other monstrosity is out there, and then get on the Tilt o’ Whirl. I guarantee you it’ll become a Tilt o’ _Hurl_ ,” Jack said.

“Boo! Boo this man!” Justin called out with a laugh. 

“Let’s go find food,” Tater said with a grin and took Justin by the hand as they made their way to the food trucks.

Tater had a corn dog, an infamous Frito pie, deep fried Oreos, kettle corn, another corn dog and he fell in love with every single thing, not so much for what they tasted like (although Tater could tell you it was all awful in the most ridiculously delicious way) but for the memories they created. 

“What do you want to try now?” Justin asked as he wiped nacho cheese off his lips.

“Everything,” Tater replied softly as he looked at Justin’s beaming face.

**+++**

“Babe, you picked out a movie, yet?”

Tater stretched and heard his bones crack. He yawned lazily on the couch and rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, _chernika_.”

“ _Miracle_?” Justin asked teasingly from the kitchen.

“Ha! No, but how about _Man from UNCLE_ , again?”

“Again?”

Tater nodded and patted the sofa cushion next to his just as Justin came in with a huge platter of poutine. 

“All right, here we go,” Justin said as he eased down. “Careful, they’re still hot.”

Justin smiled softly and put his head on Tater’s shoulder. He took the remote and looked for their movie.

Tater smiled and reached for a gravy-drenched fry. “So good. Thanks, _chernika_.”

Although Tater enjoyed food immensely, always had, it really wasn’t about the food. For Tater it was about the love. Tater could feel people’s love through food: the sharing of it, the cooking of it, eating together. That was what drove Tater, what made him feel close to people; a connection. And right now, in his cozy little world, he had an appetite as big as his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> chernika = blueberry  
> Because of course, Tater calls Ransom his little blueberry.
> 
> "Babulya, ya doma!” = "Grandma, I'm home!"
> 
> Come and say hi over on the [Tumblerers](http://wrathofthestag.tumblr.com).
> 
> All OMGCP belongs to Ngozi.


End file.
